The White Rider
by dragonswoe
Summary: During the siege of Belatona, the Varden are advancing until a warrior wielding Vrangr stops not only Eragon and his elven guards, but also Saphira in a feat beyond any single spellcaster. When Oromis and Glaedr arrive to help with the siege, a century-long deception by King Galbatorix is uncovered and the war is irrevocably changed forever.
1. Letta

_Chapter 1 - Letta _

The keep of Belatona stood tall before them. Eragon lifted _Brisingr_. "With me!" He cried. "For the Varden!"

Set just beyond the mound, a cluster of two hundred or so of the Empire's soldiers huddled, spears bristling as they pointed in the direction from the gaping hole in the wall.

Eragon leapt off the mound, charging at the soldiers. Behind him, Arya and his elven guards closed in after his brilliant sapphire dragon, Saphira. As a pillar of fire danced from Saphira's mouth, Eragon spared a moment for the wards that sparked down the line of soldiers, protecting them from the dragon fire. Saphira snapped her jaws shut, growling angrily at the lack of results.

The young Dragon Rider didn't know who had set the wards. If it had been Murtagh – his half-brother – he didn't know where he was. Did the King not care for his cities?

He danced through their ranks, his elven strength and speed easily overpowering the human soldiers. He killed several dozen before Brisingr suddenly clanged, held back by another blade.

The vibrations from the clash raced up his sword-arm.

No sword of the Empire had withstood Brisingr before. No armour or shield had stopped its edge.

Eragon ground his teeth, pressing against the warrior whom had stopped his sword. But even with his elven strength, he was unable to force him back.

Stunned, Eragon moved too slowly to avoid the first strike. A flick of the warrior's sword, and Eragon fell back as the white edge passed through his armour easily, striking his sword-arm and ripping through his bicep. He cried out. _Eragon! _Saphira roared in response, whipping her head from where she had snatched a man from the ground, breaking his spine.

"Shur'tugal!" Blödhgarm – one of the elves – cried.

Eragon switched his sword to his left hand and lunged, but with agility that was almost horrifyingly familiar, the warrior danced to the side and swung the sword again. Eragon barely managed to leap out of the way.

"Who are you?" He demanded, certain that he was facing no normal human.

The only features he could make out of his enemy's face were slanted blue eyes that narrowed slightly at him in return. The warrior's skill with the blade combined with his speed and strength soon had Eragon backing up, only able to defend himself.

Arya abruptly leaped into the battle, green eyes narrowed in concentration, only to be knocked away with startling ease.

The singing voices of the elves started behind Eragon, but the warrior barked out a swift, _"Theyna."_

_Be silent. _

Instantly, the voices of the elves stopped.

But that single word was more than enough to alert Eragon to the fact that they definitely weren't facing a human. His voice had a lilting tone to it, alike to the elven guards whom he'd silenced. But that alone worried Eragon, for twelve elven spellcastors couldn't be easily shut down, not without at least one Eldunari.

"Eragon," Arya said, appearing beside him. "You're injured, fall back."

"Arya-"

"You cannot be killed here today."

Eragon glanced back at Saphira, knowing that was true. He had to stay alive at least until they killed the King. He was one of the few who had a chance.

_She's right, little one, _Saphira murmured.

_Saphira, _Eragon thought as he watched the elves try and fail to defeat the warrior. _Can you…?_

_With pleasure. _Saphira huffed, a trail of smoke coming from her nostrils, before she growled. Her tail twitched and she let out a loud roar before pouncing.

_"Letta!" _

The blue dragoness stopped in mid-air, hanging above the courtyard by the warrior's words. Eragon's eyes widened at the feat, knowing it wasn't as simple as the warrior made it seem to stop a pouncing dragon.

"Let her go!" He yelled furiously.

"I'll let her go," the warrior promised, "if you all leave Belatona. If not…" he trailed off before muttering a word under his breath, one that was too quiet for Eragon to hear. Saphira screamed, the draconian cry echoing over the city._ "Ono hávr iet eïnradhin."_

Eragon's jaw tightened. They'd come so far, killed so many for them to turn back yet. "I can't-"

The warrior's hand closed, and Saphira squealed in agony.

"Saphira!" Eragon roared. He sheathed his sword, holding his hands up. "Don't," he said slowly. Saphira was the last female dragon. Eragon knew the King wouldn't allow anyone to kill her, but anything short of killing was still an option.

"Leave the city," the warrior said fiercely. "The King has told me in no uncertain terms that no one of the Varden is to step into the Keep." His sword, a pure white blade looking like bleached bone, lowered slightly to his side.

Still, Saphira hovered overhead, her tail thrashing as she struggled to lower herself. Eragon hesitated, torn between ordering a retreat or continuing on – he knew Saphira wouldn't be killed. But he was in no condition to continue. He glanced back at the Varden and elves, and then shut his eyes. "Fall back," he said. Then, louder, he yelled. "Fall back!"

Many in the Varden looked incredulous, but when Eragon yelled the order again they obeyed. "Shadeslayer," Blödhgarm purred.

"Blödhgarm, he's too strong," Eragon ground out. "If all of you can't take him… then who can?" Eragon backed up. "You'll release her?"

"I've already given you my word."

* * *

Eragon watched the sky over Belatona from the Varden camp, waiting anxiously for Saphira to emerge. He glanced to Nasuada. "I don't know," he said slowly. "He… whoever he is, he could take on twelve elves and still had the strength after to stop Saphira."

"Another Rider?" King Orrin questioned. "Maybe the green egg hatched."

Eragon hesitated. "I didn't see a dragon. I think… he moved too quickly to be human."

"He could have been magically enhanced," the dwarf King Orik suggested.

Eragon shook his head. "I didn't sense any of that magic on him. But his sword… it seemed familiar to me. But I can't kill him, he's too powerful. He's stronger than Murtagh. I think… I think he's an elf."

"An elf serving the King?" Orrin scoffed. "They'd sooner rip their own hearts out than serve him."

"I think we're going to need some help," Eragon murmured. A loud roar abruptly echoed around, and Eragon exhaled in relief as he saw Saphira rise above the walls of Belatona. Levelling out immediately, she circled once over the camp before landing beside Eragon. He pressed a hand against her snout. _Are you alright?_

_Yes, _Saphira snorted. _He kept his word._

Eragon, finding himself incredibly relieved, still couldn't stop something from tugging at his thoughts. He should know. "Nasuada," he murmured, "I think we'll need the help of the elven army to take Belatona." Even as he spoke, he could feel heavy layers of wards settle over the city.

Nasuada nodded. "From your reports it certainly seems so," she agreed. "I'll contact them immediately. Take the time to recover."

Eragon nodded his head, taking his leave and returning to his tent. The elven spellcasters had healed his bicep, and he'd restored his strength with the Belt of Beloth the Wise – a belt infused with gems used to store large amounts of energy.

Once in his tent, Eragon uncovered Glaedr's Eldunari from its chest hidden in the ground. Glaedr was the dragon who'd taught Eragon and Saphira, along with Glaedr's Rider, Oromis. Eragon took the Eldunari in his hands, instantly able to feel his Master's mind. _Ebrithil? _

_Eragon, _Glaedr thought back almost immediately. _How fares Belatona's siege?_

_Not very well, ebrithil, _Eragon admitted. _I fear we may need the assistance of the elves._

_Are your spellcasters not enough?_

Eragon grimaced, forcing his memory of the encounter to surface and allowing Glaedr to see the problem for himself. The great gold dragon's concern was enough to make Eragon wary.

_Ebrithil?_

_The sword he used, Eragon. _Glaedr said. _What was the glyph on the flat?_

Eragon thought back to the encounter, remembering the moment when the warrior had lowered the blade and bared the flat side towards them. _Vrangr, ebrithil. I think. It looked to have been scratched on over another glyph._

Eragon soon realised that Glaedr had withdrawn from the contact immediately after. He sighed and turned his mind towards Saphira. _What do you think?_

_I believe you are correct that he is an elf. Not even Murtagh could match twelve elves in a straight-out sword fight. _She huffed. _But I don't seen how an elf could serve the Mad King. They all despise him. _

_Eragon? _Glaedr's rumbling voice said.

_Ebrithil?_

_Oromis and I are on our way. The elven army shall follow after us._

_Thank you, ebrithil._

Glaedr hummed. _Eragon, until we arrive, do not fight him again. You cannot risk it. _

_Yes, ebrithil. _Eragon murmured. With that said, Glaedr walled his mind off from Eragon, the young Dragon Rider placing the eldunari back in its chest. _It's getting late._

_Get some rest, little one, _Saphira insisted. _We shall see what tomorrow brings us._

* * *

**So... I was procrastinating because I have an exam next week and don't want to do the work for it (terrible habit, I know) and ended up looking through all my hundreds of scrapped fic ideas (trust me, there are a lot, for many different fandoms). I came across this _unfinished _fic and figured... why not? Not sure if the Inheritance fandom is still active or not... but oh well. No point it just sitting on my laptop. **

**So, as far as I remember about this fic, it's a what-if scenario. I kind of still remember my ideas plot-wise, so maybe it could work? Dunno. I'll see what the response is to this chapter first...**


	2. Vrael

_Chapter 2 - Vrael_

The day after brought reinforcements for Belatona.

Eragon stood beside his cousin, Roran, as they watched the long column march. Roran looked downtrodden. "All of those lives lost fighting into the city. Now we'll have to repeat the fight."

Eragon smiled. "Roran, it will be easier this time," he promised. He couldn't tell his cousin about Oromis yet, since the old Rider's survival was still a secret. But he would definitely enjoy the look on Roran's face when he realised that a Dragon Rider had survived Galbatorix's purge of the old order.

A loud roar echoed over the land, and Eragon's eyes narrowed sharply as a red dragon glittering like a ruby dropped from the clouds. Roran inhaled sharply, and Eragon grimaced as he watched Thorn and Murtagh land in Belatona.

"Are you sure?"

Eragon hesitated. "Hopefully." He remembered the battle above Gil'ead, where Oromis had nearly been killed by Murtagh – Galbatorix possessing his Red Rider. Only Glaedr's quick thinking had saved his Rider's life.

Several hours later, when Eragon was sparring with Arya, another roar was heard. Only this one was far deeper and louder, since it came from a much larger dragon. Glaedr's golden hide shimmered in the midday sun as he approached on leisurely paced flaps of his great wings. His left foreleg was a mere white stump, severed a century ago by one of Galbatorix' servants – the Forsworn.

Eragon quickly set about clearing an area where the great dragon could land, which proved to be a difficult task as the Varden and dwarves stared up in awe. Glaedr landed with a heavy thud, stirring up clouds of dirt.

As the Varden watched on, utterly speechless, Eragon stepped forwards as Oromis dropped to the ground. He twisted his hand over his sternum and recited the elvish greeting. _"Atra esterní ono thelduin." _

Oromis smiled faintly. _"Mor'ranr lífa unin hjarta onr,"_ he replied.

_"Un du evarínya ono varda," _Eragon finished. With the greeting over, Oromis started towards the tent that Nasuada used as her place to hold meetings.

"This must be dealt with swiftly," Oromis informed Eragon. "You said he had a _white _blade?"

"Yes." Eragon nodded as the Varden parted before them, mutters of amazement following the two Dragon Riders. In the back of his mind Eragon heard Saphira greet Glaedr. "The glyph said _Vrangr_."

Oromis' grey eyes widened slightly. "Awry," he murmured. "Do you know of such a blade, Eragon?"

"I can only assume its elven, _ebrithil. _The colouring of the blade though suggests that it's a Rider's sword."

"Not just any Rider, I'm afraid," Oromis said grimly as he stepped into the pavilion.

"Dragon Rider Oromis," Nasuada greeted carefully, fully aware of whom she was meeting. "It's an honour to welcome you into our encampment. I'd like to personally thank you for coming to our aid."

Oromis inclined his head. "I'm afraid that what's occurring here may be… more than you're assuming," he said slowly.

Nasuada frowned lightly. "In which way?"

"Eragon would you like to say the glyph on the sword that the warrior was using?"

Eragon was confused, but nodded. "The glyph on the sword was _Vrangr, _which means Awry."

"But it was covering another rune, was it not?" Oromis questioned.

Eragon nodded again "Yes, but I couldn't make it out. _Vrangr _had been scratched right over the top of it."

Oromis inhaled deeply. "Now, I have heard of _Vrangr._" The elf steeled himself. "_Vrangr _is not the sword's real name, but it is what Galbatorix renamed the blade when he took it from Vrael's body."

Eragon's eyes widened. "You mean that's _Vrael's _sword?" He asked incredulously.

Oromis nodded. "Yes. Or, more specifically, it is now Galbatorix' personal sword. Which brings up the question of whom the warrior is."

"Galbatorix?" Orrin asked sharply.

"No. Glaedr and I were able to ascertain that much from the memories that Eragon transmitted. But the warrior is no doubt an elf. So now we must ask ourselves why Galbatorix would give Vrael's former blade to an elf. And why he even has an elf serving him." Oromis took another steadying breath, grimacing lightly. "And to do that, I must fight him. In single combat."

Eragon's eyes widened. "But, _ebrithil_, you're-"

"I am aware, Eragon," Oromis said firmly. "But this is the easiest way I can determine whom he is. I have several suspicions already, but I will not say until I am certain."

"But if you have a fit… he'll kill you," Eragon murmured.

"A fit?" King Orrin questioned, frowning at the realisation that the elder Dragon Rider would not be the help they hoped for.

"Towards the end of the Fall," Oromis said, "two Forsworn – Kailandi and Formora – captured me and Glaedr while we were evacuating some of the younglings to Ellesmera. The younglings were all killed. They cast a spell that limits my access to magic, and we only managed to escape after Glaedr's forelimb was severed." He turned back to Eragon. "But I have the energy I have stored in Naegling, Eragon. I shall be fine." He wordlessly rested a hand on Eragon's shoulder, before he nodded at the leaders of the Varden and left the pavilion.

Eragon's eyes widened as he hurried after his teacher. "You're going to challenge him now?" Heads turned at Eragon's exclamation. "_Ebrithil-_"

"Eragon," Oromis said, turning to face the younger Rider. "You asked me for my help. Please, trust me."

Oromis didn't even pause, other than to take his helm from Glaedr's saddlebags and rest a hand against the golden dragon's snout, before he was stepping out of the Varden's camp and striding across to Belatona.

"Eragon," Roran gasped as he clapped a hand on Eragon's shoulder. "_That's _your teacher? But he's a Dragon Rider!"

Eragon smiled. "I know. Oromis-elda was an Elder on the old Council."

Oromis' voice echoed over the camps with the signs of magical enhancement. He called out the warrior in the Ancient Language, the language of the elves, not stopping until he reached the halfway mark.

Warriors of the Varden watched from the safety of the camp, Eragon at the front. Glaedr kept a watchful gaze on his Rider from where he lay, head towering over the freedom-fighters.

After several long minutes, Thorn landed with a heavy thud on the parapets of the Keep and roared at Oromis. The Empire's army parted, and the warrior from the day before stepped out of the throng.

He said nothing as he stepped forwards, stopping a few feet from Oromis. Though when he did speak, his lilting voice too echoed. "Challenging me is not wise. Not in your current condition. With your current illness."

"If my suspicion is correct, that won't matter."

The two elves drew their blades.

The Empire's warrior was the first to move, immediately closing the little distance that remained between them and experimentally jabbing at Oromis' chest. The Rider easily parried the blow to the side, countering swiftly. Very soon, the fight changed from testing each other to a duel. Eragon's knuckles were white as he gripped the pommel of Brisingr.

Eragon soon realised that Oromis wasn't really matching the warrior. He was somehow able to predict where the next strike would come, and it allowed him to be able to keep away from the sharp edge of the white blade.

Abruptly, Oromis caught the blade on his own and locked them together. "Your style has changed slightly," he said, faint strain in his amplified voice. "But not enough that I can't recognise it, _Vrael_."

Instantly, a hushed silence fell. _Everyone _in the Varden knew who Vrael was. He was the former Leader of the Dragon Riders, the one whom had been decapitated near the end of the Fall. He was a legendary figure in Alagaësia, viewed as the strongest of the old Riders.

The warrior shoved Oromis back, but he didn't attack as Oromis staggered slightly.

Oromis stayed where he was, a good few feet between the two elves. "Take off your helmet."

It looked like the warrior wouldn't comply, until slowly he lifted a hand and tugged the castle-forged helmet off. It fell to the ground with a thud.

"Vrael," Oromis said, his tone firmer. "Vrael, what happened to you?"

The legendary White Rider tilted his head to the side. "I serve the King," he said flatly, before he stepped forwards again and swung his own sword up.

Oromis jerked back from the slash, quickly blocking the next one after. "He claimed he killed you, that he decapitated you at Utgard."

"Evidently, he lied. It wouldn't be the first time." Vrael danced away from Oromis before moving in again.

Oromis matched each strike. "Leave the Empire," he pressed. "Join us."

"I cannot," Vrael said fiercely. "The King has forbidden it." He paused, pulling back slightly. "Do you not think that Galbatorix would keep me locked away until he knew I wouldn't _dare _to turn on him?" He dropped his voice slightly, though everyone still heard clearly. "Do you know what he'd do to me?"

"Vrael-"

"_No, _Oromis," the older elf growled. "There's no way out for me. Not anymore." Oromis was able to block the next few strikes, not willing to attack the other Rider, until Vrael lunged at his chest, flicking the sword to the side in the last second. The white blade sliced through Oromis' bicep, the same move Vrael had pulled on Eragon, only he followed up by slamming the pommel of _Vrangr _into Oromis' helmet.

Oromis fell back, and before he could raise Naegling in defence, _Vrangr _was resting on his collarbone. He dropped his sword arm.

Vrael's blue eyes were like ice. "After Murtagh's failure at Gil'ead, Galbatorix gave me orders to capture you." Eragon's eyes widened, and he started forwards. "Fortunately for you, Oromis, he said when we meet in battle. I don't consider this yet to be a battle – do you?"

"No," Oromis said, and Eragon exhaled in relief. His master sounded faintly amused. "You were toying with me."

"At first, yes. But you have that same frustrating ability you used to – knowing where I'm going to strike."

"Only when I fight you," Oromis said simply. "What has that foul King done to you?"

Vrael paused briefly, frowning. He stepped back and sheathed _Vrangr. _"Get going, Oromis," he said evasively. The White Rider turned, starting back towards Belatona. Before he got very far, Glaedr let out a deep bellow, rising onto his three legs and gliding so he trapped Vrael between Oromis and himself. There was instantly an answering roar from Thorn who leapt off the parapets, letting out a thick sheet of fire.

Glaedr lowered his golden head to eye level with Vrael. The old Rider raised a hand, holding it before him, and after a few seconds of deliberation Glaedr inched closer so the elf's hand was resting on the end of his snout.

"Where's Umaroth?" Oromis called.

"I wouldn't know," Vrael said, his tone dull and worn. "I haven't felt him since the massacre at Vroengard."

Glaedr snorted, letting out a trail of smoke that enveloped Vrael, before he moved to Oromis and lowered himself down. Vrael continued on across the open ground.

Eragon watched with a small frown as Thorn swiftly rose into the air, gliding over and past the Varden, before he banked around and slowly glided lower as he passed Vrael. The old elf leapt several dozen feet into the air as Thorn passed, likely assisted with magic, before he landed nimbly on the red dragon's back.

* * *

**Ok, so I have always liked the idea of Vrael in Eragon's story. Maybe it's the fact that he's always mentioned at the pinnacle of the Dragon Riders, the best, the greatest - the only one able to stand toe-to-toe with Galbatorix. I'm sorry, but considering how Galbatorix is, he doesn't really strike me as the person to decapitate Vrael then and there at Edoc'Sil. I think he's far more likely to take him away - claiming he killed him - and make him a name-slave, like he did with Murtagh. **

**So bare in mind that this was literally written like 3 years ago, and I haven't touched anything to do with Eragon since then, I will be rusty with my details. **

**Please be patient with me xD.**

**SaphiraFan95: Thanks :). Yeah, I had noticed. Eragon stuff came up on my youtube recommended and I listened to the soundtrack (brilliant, even if the movie SUCKED) and had the idea to look up the Inheritance fics... and was utterly horrified at how few there are now. Years ago this fandom was so active...**

**Ghostfall: I do? Oh good. The nuclear war option is more likely.**


	3. A Rider's Speech

_Chapter 3 - A Rider's Speech_

Eragon could see Vrael watching from the city parapets as the elven army merged with the Varden. As she did with Oromis, Nasuada greeted Islanzadi in the pavilion with the King of Surda Orrin and Orik the dwarf. The Elven Queen replied in turn before she abruptly turned to Oromis, the dismissal obvious.

Orrin looked rather put out, frowning heavily.

"The warrior?" Izlanzadi questioned. At her side, Däthedr her adviser looked worried at her words.

"Vrael," Oromis said tiredly. "As I suspected."

Eragon cleared his throat. "How did you suspect it though? Everyone thought he was dead."

"The ease with which he held… the white blade." Oromis was obviously reluctant to call the Rider's sword _Vrangr_. "His height… how he fought. And his eyes." Oromis sighed. "I was around Vrael enough to be able to recognise him or at least suspect."

Däthedr frowned heavily. "As Eragon said, Vrael is supposed to have died on Ristvak'baen. He was a close ally of Ellesmera, to the elves. We could always rely on him – as could the rest of Alagaësia – whenever there were problems. To see him fighting us… many elves will rightly be furious."

Nasuada pressed her lips together. "What of his dragon?" She questioned. "Umaroth, is it?"

Oromis smiled sadly. "Vrael said two days ago – after our duel – that he hadn't sensed Umaroth since Vroengard. That doesn't mean he was killed, but… given that there were claims from other Riders after the battle that they saw him being knocked out of the sky by Shruikan, it's a likely possibility. If he hasn't shown himself yet, I doubt he will within the next few days. I'd be more concerned about Vrael for now – he's a name-slave."

Eragon winced at the reminder. The Ancient Language had names for everything, even people. If you know the name, you control the person.

Oromis continued. "Vrael would _never _help Galbatorix if he has a choice, so he must also be a name-slave. If Umaroth does appear, he will help us, and not the Empire."

"Vrael's mind was supposedly the only mind that Galbatorix could _not _break into," Orik pointed out. "So how has he done it?"

"It's been a century," Eragon murmured. "Who knows what's happened in that time?"

"We cannot take Belatona until he is dealt with," Nasuada said slowly, looking like she was incredibly hesitant to say it.

Queen Islanzadí's eyes sharpened. "No elf will kill Vrael. And if Vrael dies, so will Umaroth if he still lives. Umaroth is one of the largest of the five dragons alive, and is most certainly the oldest. He _cannot _be killed."

"But then what can we do?" Orrin demanded. "We _must _take Belatona to advance."

"What about his true name?" Däthedr asked. "He could change it. That will free him from Galbatorix' control."

"That will take time," Oromis said. "Time we do not have."

"Can you defeat him in battle, Oromis-elda?" Islanzadí questioned.

"Not alone. Even before the Fall, Vrael was far stronger than me. Now, I'm crippled and Vrael has no doubt become far stronger. He knows more spells than me. I won't stand a chance alone."

Eragon stepped forward. "Vrael also said very clearly that he's been ordered to capture Oromis on the battlefield. I don't think he should fight him alone."

"We'll have to inform all the elves of recent events before they hear too much from the Varden," Däthedr said. "I'd rather they hear the truth than rumours."

"We haven't said anything yet," Nasuada added. "I decided it would be best to wait for your army to arrive."

"I will tell them," Oromis said firmly. "He is a friend of mine. As for Vrael… I'm the only one who has the slightest chance at taking him out alive. He may have orders to capture me, but with the assistance of the elves I may be able to match him."

"It's a risk," Islanzadí warned. "He may be stronger than you suspect him to be. It's been a hundred years since his loss at Ristvak'baen to Galbatorix. A century during which anything could have happened."

"How long is it likely that Vrael held out against Galbatorix?" Nasuada questioned.

Oromis shook his head. "I don't know," he admitted, spreading his hands. "Only one of the Forsworn was killed in the fighting. That leaves twelve of them, not including Galbatorix, to batter against his shields from the very beginning of his captivity. Unless Vrael decides to reveal what happened to him himself, I doubt we will be able to find out."

"Murtagh may know," Nasuada mused.

"What makes you think that?" Islanzadí asked.

"His reaction when Glaedr blocked Vrael path back to Belatona," Nasuada explained. "None of you were watching?"

"I was more concerned with Vrael and Glaedr," Eragon said. "And then Thorn." Eragon hadn't been the only one reaching for a weapon as Thorn had banked overhead. "What about Murtagh?"

"He seemed ready to launch himself at Glaedr himself if it looked like Vrael was about to be harmed," Nasuada murmured.

"No doubt Galbatorix has made use of Vrael before this siege," Orrin grumbled.

Oromis inclined his head. "Considering Murtagh's spellcasting ability, I don't doubt that Vrael had a hand in teaching him. Vrael always was a particularly adept teacher." He looked as if he were about to continue, before he paused. "But it's likely that Murtagh knows, if only due to Galbatorix telling him the truth to gloat."

"We need to take Belatona," Nasuada stated. "It's not an option to march on to Dras-Leona without taking the city."

"So we need to match Vrael and Murtagh," Eragon quietly said. "At the very least."

"I'll assign some spellcasters to you if you are willing, _Shur'tugal_," Islanzadí said to Oromis.

Oromis nodded. "That would be best," he agreed. "With some luck, Vrael will not be expecting to face a dozen elves along with me."

"Tomorrow," Nasuada said. "We've had a weeks rest already to recover."

"Tomorrow," Islanzadí echoed in agreement, closely followed by Orrin and Orik.

"Then perhaps now would be a good time to gather our armies?" Oromis murmured. "It may be prudent to stop rumours before they begin regarding Vrael and I."

"Däthedr?" Islanzadí requested.

"It is done, Dröttning."

"Jarsha," Nasuada called, summoning one of the messengers of the Varden, "gather our armies."

As Jarsha rushed off to follow Nasuada's order, Oromis took the opportunity to leave the tent. Eragon immediately ducked out after him. "Ebrithil," he called, gathering Oromis' attention.

"Eragon-finiarel," Oromis greeted. "Something troubles you," he noted.

"Yes, ebrithil," Eragon said. "Vrael… you said it yourself, he was a match for Galbatorix even before the Fall. He has orders to capture you, he said so himself."

"As Murtagh has the same for you, Eragon," Oromis pointed out. "Vrael may possess a greater strength than I, but familiarity with his particular fighting style will allow me to match him in swordsmanship. The elven spellcasters Islanzadí will assign to me will allow me to at the very least shield myself from any spells he may cast. And his own reluctance to capture me, his reluctance to serve the King, will perhaps give me an edge over him."

"That doesn't mean I can't worry for you, Ebrithil."

"Worry for yourself, Eragon. Glaedr is worrying more than enough for both you and him."

Eragon's lips twitched up slightly as he spotted Glaedr's golden scales on the edge of the elven encampment. "I suppose he would be."

It took surprisingly little time for the armies to be gathered. Their movement had caused Thorn to settle on the parapets of Belatona, the ruby dragon intently watching them. Eragon also noted the smaller figures of Vrael and Murtagh next to him.

"This is the first time that all of our races have been gathered together," Oromis said to the armies, his voice yet again enchanted to echo across to Belatona. "And the first time in a century that Glaedr and I – Oromis – have seen a real opportunity to strike out at Galbatorix for his betrayal of our Order. We have been waiting for a century for an egg to hatch so that we may have a chance, a century of waiting for our latest students. But, as no doubt the rumours have already begun, I am not the only old Rider alive today."

Oromis paused long enough for Eragon to hear muttered whispers of, "Vrael."

"Galbatorix has deceived us!" Oromis said. "For one hundred years he has kept Vrael's survival a secret. For one hundred years, Vrael has been suffering at his hand." Eragon knew at this point that Oromis' words were mostly for the elves, whom were all beginning to look righteously furious. "We all know the lies from the Betrayer, none of us knew the truth. The Vrael I knew did his utmost to protect the dragons at his own cost; to shield the younger Dragon Riders by standing against Galbatorix alone. He tried to save Alagaësia and it cost him his freedom, and now I intend to save him. When we march on Belatona, remember the Vrael we all knew. Remember his strength, his courage to stand against the Mad King."

The response from the armies was thunderous. While the humans, dwarves and urgals had many various chants, the elves were by far the loudest.

"_Arucane_!"

"_Aiedail_!"

_"Hvitr hjarta!"_

Eventually, the elves all settled on one word and seemed rather pleased with it. "_Edoc'sil_!"

Oromis stepped down from the raised platform.

"_Ebrithil_?" Eragon questioned. "That wasn't what I was expecting." The chants were still continuing, the other races even picking up _Edoc'sil _from the elves.

Oromis' hand tightened on Naegling's pommel. "Vrael needs a reminder of who he is," he said. "This should provide him more than enough. He's no slave to the Mad King – he's the Leader of the Dragon Riders."

The Riders both watched the figures atop the parapets as the elves encroached across the open plains towards Belatona, though not getting close enough to incite a response from within the city walls. Murtagh had turned slightly to face Vrael, evidently speaking to him. A few seconds later, Thorn let out a furious roar and blasted a jet of flame in the direction of the elves as Vrael turned and descended out of sight.

Oromis sighed. "Vrael," he murmured, "what has the Oath-Breaker done to you?"

"Tomorrow," Eragon said firmly. "Tomorrow, we'll siege the city. We'll get him back."

"Or Murtagh and him will succeed to capture one of us," Oromis said.

* * *

**So the first half was already pre-written. The second half was not. Since I haven't read any of the books in the series in like 5 years, I'm just gonna warn you all that there may be slight OOC-ness here. So if I need to change anything to get them more in character, please let me know. **

**So what I do remember is that the elves were basically fanatical about the dragon riders and dragons. I don't think _any _elf will be pleased to find that Vrael is being forced into serving Galbatorix.**

**Sairina Thranduiliel: I kinda feel sorry for Vrael. He tried _so _hard to stop Galbatorix, tried to protect the dragons and Alagaesia, and just everything he had dedicated his life to was lost and burnt and torn down. Whether he died or lived, I still feel sorry for him. Poor elf, dying thinking that he'd failed Alagaesia. If there's anything about Oromis' character that I need to change, pls let me know. I've forgotten how to write the characters of this fandom xD.**

**SaphiraFan95: Why not? I'm reviving a dead fandom, and a dead elf. It's interesting even for me after 5 years of nothing to do with this fandom. Updates will probably be rare, since I've started uni last month and I'm still trying to get used to the workloa**d.


	4. Emerald

_Chapter 4 - Emerald_

Murtagh had met Vrael in the days immediately after Thorn's hatching.

While the two had had a very rocky start, Murtagh had soon come to appreciate the old elf's presence. He often sought the other Rider out after having to deal with the King and Vrael had accepted his approaches with little complaint, realising that the younger Rider needed to converse with someone in a similar situation to him.

Vrael had not wanted to teach Murtagh. He had initially tried to teach him the bare minimum, but Galbatorix had soon realised and had threatened to take over Murtagh's training himself. Thus, Murtagh had found his teacher. Vrael had soon started stepping between Galbatorix and Murtagh in the young Rider's defence – he'd endured many a beating in Murtagh's stead.

As Murtagh had progressed, he'd found himself trying to return the favour to the old elf when he'd caught Vrael painfully making his way back to his chambers, back split open and raw with a trail of blood behind him. Murtagh was under no illusions however – Vrael had only protected him to protect Thorn from feeling such pain while he was still a hatchling. As Thorn had quickly grown – far faster than he should have, thanks to the King's meddling – Vrael had gradually stepped in less and less at Murtagh's insistence.

And after Murtagh's return from the Burning Plains, he'd caught Vrael intently studying a fairth as if his existence depended upon it. A white dragon hatchling, tumbling over itself as it attempted to fly only for it to be dragged back down to earth by gravity. Another had been stuck to the stone wall of Vrael's chamber by magic, one which Murtagh could only assume had been Vroengard before the Fall of the Dragon Riders. A final one which Vrael had always taken great pains to hide from Galbatorix depicted a dark-eyed boy barely in adulthood sprawled over a stone floor on his back with a silver dragon curled up on his stomach. Murtagh had his suspicions – especially so when he heard the respect with which Galbatorix always talked to Vrael and his tone when he called him _ebrithil_.

But Murtagh had never asked either of them.

_"The elves have been chased off," _Thorn said with evident glee.

_"Good," _Murtagh thought back to him.

_"Ebrithil?"_

_"I haven't found him yet," _Murtagh replied. _"He's hiding."_

_"Shall I burn them?"_

Murtagh smiled faintly. It wasn't only him whom was defensive over Vrael. Since Vrael had helped Murtagh with taking care of Thorn since he hatched, the red dragon had become incredibly fond of the ancient Rider. _"Not yet."_

_"But soon?"_

Murtagh sent fond amusement along the bond to his dragon. _"Perhaps." _The Red Rider paused, finally sensing the mind of the elf. _"Found him." _He should have assumed that the elf would retreat to the room he'd taken for himself while he was in Belatona.

"Ebrithil?" He questioned, nudging open Vrael's door with a loud creak. Murtagh leant on the doorframe, watching Vrael as the elf stared into the flames of the fireplace. "Thorn's chased them away. He's concerned. And so am I."

The cries of _Edoc'sil _were unwelcome, Murtagh knew that much.

"Don't be," Vrael said. "Worry for yourselves."

Murtagh moved further into the room, letting the door swing shut behind him and settled onto the edge of Vrael's bed. The elf's fascination with the flames was obvious, due to the emerald shape warmed by the heat.

"Anything?"

"No."

Murtagh was faintly relieved, though he felt Thorn's disappointment. "That's good at least. Will you be leaving soon?"

Vrael wasn't supposed to be in Belatona when the Varden arrived. Galbatorix had initially wanted him to move onto the next town, but when the elf had been delayed and so was still present at the initial assault, he'd received new orders – defend the city, and stop the Varden. And now the elves had turned up too.

"Perhaps. If all goes to plan."

"Right," Murtagh said. "The plan. Don't suppose you can tell me what our King has planned."

"He's forbidden it."

"Of course. Will the Varden be able to take the city?"

"With the elves here too? Undoubtedly." Vrael finally glanced over at him. Murtagh hadn't seen many elves before, so he had been surprised to meet them at Gil'ead. Compared to Vrael, they all seemed full of life. The elf before him was worn. He possessed a far greater strength than the rest of them, but he looked older despite that.

Murtagh raised an eyebrow, reclining back as he did so. "Galbatorix wants them to take the city." He deduced. "Why?"

"A challenge for you," his teacher replied.

"I'm guessing he's told you?"

"Enough for me to know my part in his plans," Vrael said. "But little else. If there's anyone he's apt to reveal everything to, it's not me."

"It's because he knows you'll find a way to eventually get word to the Varden," Murtagh drawled.

"I doubt it," Vrael murmured. His eyes hardened. "He's ensured that much at least. After six decades of oaths from me he knows exactly what I can and can't do."

Murtagh had never asked Vrael what had happened in the four decades before that, between his defeat at _Ristvak'baen _and when Galbatorix had finally crushed his mental shields and forced him into servitude. He didn't need to ask him, Galbatorix's mockery of the old Rider had informed Murtagh of more than enough.

Galbatorix had handed Vrael over to the Ra'zac for four decades. By the time Galbatorix ordered Morzan to retrieve Vrael, it was simple for him to bat away the futile efforts from the elf of forming any kind of defence.

The sky outside was darkening, casting dark shadows over Vrael's expression as the fire flickered. "You shouldn't stay up too late," Vrael finally added. "I have a feeling that they'll attack tomorrow. You should be rested."

"How do you know?"

"After a speech like that?" Vrael questioned, looking faintly amused. "Oromis has successfully riled up every elf, and potentially every other race too. No one will wish to wait too long after listening to him. Trust me, Murtagh, the assault will come tomorrow."

"I trust you," Murtagh said. "But perhaps you should listen to your own advice too. Try not to stay up mourning for the past too long, _ebrithil._"

Vrael inclined his head and Murtagh rose, making his way to the door. "Murtagh."

The Red Rider paused, glancing back at the King's reluctantly loyal right hand. "Tomorrow, I'll need you to listen to my orders. As I say, as soon as I say."

Murtagh frowned. "Always," he promised. "I trust you," the son of Morzan repeated.

"You shouldn't," Vrael said darkly, returning his gaze to the emerald dragon egg nestled amongst the gentle flames of the fireplace.

* * *

**Ok. Vrael. As stated in this chapter, he spent 4 decades with the Ra'zac and I don't really think I need to go into more detail about that. And he's been a name-slave for 6 decades. He's _bitter_, and he's lost all hope. He's fully aware that he's failed Alagaesia and every race within it in losing to Galbatorix because he _hesitated _and he's been hating himself for it ever since. I think after having everything that he's dedicated his life to burnt down he'd be very different to how he's often mentioned in the series. 'Ancient and wise', yes. But he's lost everything. _Anyone _would change who they were after that.**

**Ghostfall: Well it would be a little difficult to fit Kronercy into this fanfic, wouldn't it? But... there may be one relationship I'd be willing to try. I'm pretty sure that the elves have no issue with mxm relations... though I may be wrong.**


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